


Martians, Blights, and Moonlit Nights

by alienlover13



Series: Camp Cedarwood [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Draco, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, HP: EWE, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Martians, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Slash, Summer Camp, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 00:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9295988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienlover13/pseuds/alienlover13
Summary: Malfoys didn’t sweat, and they certainly didn’t tromp around in the wilderness, with children no less, in some sort of torturous Muggle-induced hellhole called summer camp. Except sometimes they did. At least Potter's there to rescue him, as always.





	

Thank Merlin small children didn’t move quickly. Draco counted his blessings as he and his two co-counselors herded their group of campers from the Lodge, where they’d just finished lunch, all the way to the archery range. Camp Cedarwood was notoriously hot in the summer, and, just like all the other days this week, they’d been in high heat advisory because the temperature was above 100 degrees. Any pace above “slow” would have probably sent him into heat exhaustion.

As it was, they weren’t doing so well. It was a trek to get there, and, even with stopping every five minutes for a water break, the campers were complaining about being hot and tired. Sweat poured down Draco’s back and neck, soaking his shirt. He’d taken a morning shower, but he’d never have known because of the way his skin already stuck together at the creases. Everything was sticky. Malfoys didn’t sweat, and they _certainly_ didn’t tromp around in the wilderness, with children no less, in some sort of torturous Muggle-induced hellhole called _summer camp_.

“Dragon,” said Maggie, their youngest camper, calling him by his camp name. “Can you sing the song about the Martians?” Her lip quivered as she looked at him with big eyes.

Draco internally sighed. His co-counselors both heard her ask, and if he was to not comply, he’d bet at least 10 galleons that they’d mark him down for it on their weekly peer evaluations. He needed good scores, so that was one motivation. Another was that Maggie was actually his favorite camper of the group, and he’d found himself developing something of a soft spot for her.

“Of course,” Draco said with fake enthusiasm. “Do you want to lead it with me?” Nearly all of his social interactions at camp had to be carefully modulated; he could only be honest with Pansy and sometimes Blaise, who were also counselors at Camp Cedarwood. Bad luck had placed them in different groups this week.

“Yes!” screeched Maggie, tugging on his arm excitedly.

Water break over, they continued to head toward the archery range, but now there would be entertainment in the form of Draco singing. He could carry a tune, but these camp songs were going to be the death of him.

“Ready?” Draco asked. Maggie nodded. With a real sigh this time, he shouted, “This is a repeat song!”

Almost immediately, the entire group of campers latched onto what was happened and echoed, “This is a repeat song!”

After a quick glance at Maggie, where Draco somehow kept his reluctance hidden, they sang, “Once I met a Martian, who comes from Mars!”

It was excitedly echoed back, and even made the group walk a little faster. Maggie shot him a proud smile, and Draco at least felt happy that _she_ was happy.

At least this was a song he remembered. After dinner the other night, at Singing Tree in front of the entire camp full of campers and even a few counselors, Draco had totally buggered up the lyrics to one of everybody’s favorite songs. It could have been worse. The campers in the front row took over singing, and he was able to laugh it off and deal with the ribbing from some of the other counselors.

“Dragon, do the movements!” Maggie cried.

There was no hiding his lack of enthusiasm this time. As they sang “He ate all my M&Ms, and my chocolate bars!” Maggie eagerly made eating motions, while Draco’s were much more half-hearted. Vaguely, he wondered what the bloody hell “eminems” were.

This torture continued down the woodchip path, past the lake, and through a grassy field. Draco let himself be talked into singing the song a second time, by himself, mostly due to Maggie’s bright eyes but also because they were nearly there so he might not have to finish it. But another group was heading to the archery range from an adjacent path that would soon merge with theirs, and of course _Potter_ just had to be one of the counselors. Draco could practically spot him from a mile off.

Naturally, they had just reached the part where Draco had to sing, “A hula hula hu,” and make hula motions with his hips when the two groups joined and became one. Even as Potter’s campers eagerly echoed the song, joining in, back, Draco could see Potter smirking (even though he tactfully turned his head).

It didn’t get better from there. He had time to finish the verse before they reached the range, and so Draco had to sing – and do motions for – the rest of the verse, which went included “kachang kachang kachang,” “ a wibbly wobbly wibbly woo,” and yet another round of “a hula hula hu.”

Flushed and embarrassed, Draco was more than relieved when the archery director herded both groups of campers on the picnic benches and started lecturing about the rules for archery.

There were a lot of campers, so half took turns shooting arrows while the other half amused themselves on the picnic benches. Technically, the counselors were supposed to entertain them, but Draco was already exhausted from the walk over and it appeared the other counselors were as well. The targets were set away from the trees, far out into the grassy area where the sun oppressively beat down. Naturally, he was assigned to picture duty, so there was no reprieve from the heat as he tried his best to take action pictures of the campers as they aimed and fired.

When Draco finally switched with one of his co-counselors and was allowed to come back into the shade, he was relieved to see that the counselors were sitting amongst the campers on the picnic benches. He squeezed onto the end of one of the outside benches, so that the other three were behind him. Noticing that their unit director, Beans, who stayed in their living unit with them and flitted from group to group to oversee the counselors, was present, Draco decided to strike up a conversation with the camper sitting next to him instead of daydreaming about literally anything else but camp. At least his “Me Time” wasn’t too far away.

What would he even say to this camper? Draco looked at her awkwardly, trying to think up a question that would prompt a decent conversation. She wasn’t in his group, though, so he couldn’t ask her about the arts and crafts they’d done after breakfast.

He finally settled on “Has your group gone to the challenge course yet?” which surprisingly caused her face to light up. She was in the middle of telling Draco all about how she’d scaled the hardest side of the rock wall when Beans caught his eye from a few feet away and made a come here gesture.

Politely excusing himself, Draco walked over to her with nervous trepidation in his stomach, uncertain as to what would happen next. She’d always seemed chill, but he’d quickly learned that, at camp, the goofiest of staff members could quickly tap into a seriousness that rivaled even the most professional Ministry members.

“Dragon,” scolded Beans. “Why aren’t you supervising the campers? They’re sitting on each other’s laps on the benches behind you, the ones you’re not looking at, and that’s a safety hazard.”

“Aren’t there other counselors back there too, sitting with them?” Draco asked, puzzled as to why he was being reprimanded.

“That’s not an excuse,” Beans said harshly, “You need to take responsibility rather than find someone else to blame for your mistake.”

The “fuck you” was on the tip of his tongue, but if he said it, there went his chances at getting off of probation a year early. Instead, Draco drew his mouth into a thin line, determined not to show weakness in front of her.

“Safety is my number one concern,” Beans said, face softening just the slightest bit. “Please make sure to keep a better eye on the campers.”

He took the clear dismissal and sat back down on the bench, eyes stinging. Despite the bullshit she’d spouted about taking responsibility, Draco believed wholeheartedly that if something untoward was going on behind him, the other counselors should have been equally – if not more harshly – reprimanded than he had been. They were sitting right in the middle of the action, for fuck’s sake. But because of the probation, because of his former status as Death Eater, he was always going to be the scapegoat.

And wouldn’t this look nice on his weekly evaluation?

The thought caused the tears to form in Draco’s eyes, no matter his resolution of strength. Without another care for the campers he was supposed to be supervising, Draco stood up and snuck behind the adjoining archery shed, where all the gear was kept. Fortunately, he was completely hidden from the campers, the other counselors, and Beans, but anyone coming down the path or chilling by the lake would have a first class view of him.

Sinking to his knees, Draco scrubbed his hands through his hair and took deep breaths, trying to calm down. Nothing worked. The heat was addling his mind, apparently. He’d dealt with much worse insults when he was actively involved with the Death Eaters, but it was difficult to simply let it go when he’d actually been trying to be a good counselor.

Nobody was around, thankfully, when his tears started falling. Draco pressed his face into his arms to muffle the sound of sobbing, hoping that giving in would allow to get it out of his system sooner, but he couldn’t feel any signs of his sadness stopping, especially as he sank into the hole of despair that was his past.      

It did no good to dwell on the choices he’d made. For the last four years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco’d done everything under the sun to prove his worth. He took seven NEWTs after finishing his final year at Hogwarts, choosing to pursue a Potions Mastery after graduation. Though he’d had various apprenticeships along the way, most were cautious about hiring him because of his probation. When the letter had come, halfway through his fourth year of supervision, offering an alternative – spend nine weeks as a counselor at a Muggle-style summer camp and be reinstated as a proper citizen of society a year early – Draco agreed without a second thought.

Maybe that hadn’t been the best decision, after all.

“Malfoy?”

There was only one person here who insisted on calling him Malfoy whenever they were away from campers, but surely Potter wouldn’t have come looking for him. Draco momentarily quelled his sobbing to check, and, sure enough, it was Potter.

Naturally, Potter couldn’t have picked a more embarrassing moment to seek him out. Burying his face in his arms again, Draco muttered, “What do you want, Potter?” Little hiccuping sobs escaped despite his best efforts, which only made him hate himself more.

To his surprise, Potter sank down against the shed to sit next to him. “What did Beans say to you, Malfoy?” he murmured.

Draco didn’t respond. Of all people, Potter was the least likely to show sympathy for the reaming he’d just gotten. Not after the way he’d celebrated Draco’s detentions back at Hogwarts.

When Potter placed a hand on his neck, though, picking up his sweaty hair and blowing on his neck to cool him down, Draco felt compelled to respond. “She told me to supervise the campers better, because they were sitting on each other’s laps,” he said reluctantly, a rogue tear slipping down his cheek. Without a second glance, Potter wiped that away, too. “When I pointed out there were counselors already watching them, she told me not to shift the blame onto others.”

Potter snorted. “That’s such bullshit.”

He couldn’t help from adding, “That’s what I thought too.”

“Hell, _I_ was one of the counselors letting them climb all over each other,” Potter said angrily. “If she had concerns, they should have been directed at us first. Not you. For fuck’s sake, you were talking to one of the little girls!”

Draco took another deep breath, but couldn’t stop from sniffling. Somehow, having Potter on his side, rather than making him feel better, actually made him want to cry _harder_.

Sighing, Potter asked, “Is your ‘Me Time’ soon?”

“I’m on it right now,” admitted Draco, after he’d checked his watch.

He was completely floored when Potter kissed his cheek and pulled him to his feet. “I’m going to walk you over to Shady Glen,” Potter said determinedly. “Stay here.”

Draco couldn’t have protested even if he wanted to; Potter was gone in a flash. He could hear him arguing with Beans, though he couldn’t make out the words to what they were saying.

Potter returned less than two minutes later with Draco’s pack and water bottle. “Drink,” he advised. “So I’m on ‘Me Time’ too now, cause after I walk you over, no one would be available to walk me back here.” In high heat conditions, counselors were required to travel with a buddy.

The water helped, just as Potter predicted it would, and Draco felt much less lightheaded as he and Potter set off for Shady Glen. He’d expected Potter to fill the silence with conversation about Granger and the Weasel, or about his own group of campers, but Potter surprised him yet again with his silence.

When they arrived, Draco made to go sit underneath the shady tree that provided him the only bit of solace he’d have all day, but Potter pulled him inside the building. It was just as hot, if not hotter, in here as it was outside, and it was also filled with other counselors that Draco absolutely did not want to see. Even if without tear tracks running down his face, he usually kept to himself.

Potter went straight to his cubby and pulled out a towel before shoving it at Draco. “Go take a shower,” he said. “I think I have some soap in here, too.” He rummaged around before locating a bar of soap and triumphantly thumping it down on top of the towel. “Don’t make that face at me, Malfoy,” he said exasperatedly. “Just go do it.”

“I’ll just have to put my dirty clothes back on anyway,” Draco hedged.

Rolling his eyes, Potter dove back into his cubby and extracted some hiking clothes. They weren’t much different than what Draco usually wore. “Now will you go?” he asked.

“Fine,” Draco conceded, heading into the bathroom. He took a moment to set everything up, peeling off his clothes with a grimace, before turning on the water.

Potter was right. The water cascading down his body felt heavenly, washing away the hurts and toils of the day. He stayed under the stream for a half an hour, using the time to reflect on the day, and especially on Potter’s kindness. Draco didn’t quite know what to do with it.

 He washed with Potter’s soap, dried off with Potter’s towel, and put on Potter’s clothes. Draco never would have expected him to have such high-quality boxers, which fit him nearly as well as his own did. Potter’s smell, which was embedded in the clothes even though they were clean, somehow comforted Draco as he combed his wet hair and went to dump his dirty laundry in his own cubby.

Potter was waiting for him with a smile on his face, which Draco hesitantly returned. Without another word, they left Shady Glen and walked to the Lodge for dinner. When they were separated because of the need to fill a table that didn’t have a staff member, Draco felt surprisingly bereft with the loss of Potter’s presence.

Dinner passed without anything of interest happening, at least, not until one of the campers – an older one, at that – stared directly at Draco and asked, “What does your tattoo mean?”

He’d taken to wearing short sleeve shirts at camp because it was ridiculously hot, and usually the campers accepted him without question just as they accepted Beans’ septum piercing or Otter’s gages. Should a younger camper ask what was on his arm, Draco would simply explain that it was a tattoo, which they wouldn’t be permitted to get until they were much older. The camper would usually nod and then he would distract them with a song, game, or something equally silly. No one had ever explicitly asked what the Dark Mark _meant_.

With a curt nod, Draco excused himself from the table and went to the single stall bathroom, where he locked himself in to hide until the end of dinner. Only after the campers had been dismissed to Singing Tree did he return to the table and snag the rest of his bread for later.

The campers’ bedtime couldn’t come quickly enough. He offered each one in his group the option of a hug or high five and heaved a sigh of relief when they were all successfully tucked into their beds. He was physically and mentally exhausted, just as he was every day at camp. For Draco, each week easily felt like an entire year.

He settled himself onto the picnic table and waited for their nightly staff meeting to happen. Beans was present, and so were Draco’s co-counselors, but Potter’s group was taking a while. Eventually Potter’s co-counselor’s emerged, and they said Potter was having trouble getting one of the campers to relax. Eventually, Beans decided to reschedule the meeting for tomorrow, and though everyone else said their goodnights, Draco stayed at the picnic table, waiting for Potter.

Eventually he emerged from the cabin, exhaustedly walking down the little path towards the central picnic area.

“Where is everyone?” Potter yawned, looking at Draco.

“Beans rescheduled for tomorrow,” Draco said, watching Potter carefully.

“Thank Merlin,” sighed Potter. “Honestly, if I’d had to go through one more bloody meeting or conversation…”

“I know exactly what you mean,” said Draco sincerely. There were multiple points throughout the day where he just felt like hexing everyone in sight.

After a moment of silence, Draco sensed that Potter was going to turn around and go to bed. For some reason, he didn’t want that to happen. “Do you want to go for a walk?” he blurted out. “The building acts as coverage for one staff member per group, so we won’t be understaffed.”

Potter stared at him, expression inscrutable. “Sure thing, Malfoy,” he eventually said.

Draco snagged a flashlight from his pack and waited Potter to do the same before they set off. After they’d been walking for a few minutes, admiring the surrounding darkness, he asked, “Why did you come find me earlier today?”

 “I’ve wanted to talk to you since day one,” said Potter genuinely. “This is the first time we’ve been in the same living unit, but I could never find a good time to approach you. After your talk with Beans, though, I could see you weren’t quite right, so –”

“– so your hero complex kicked in,” Draco said teasingly.

For a second, he thought Potter would get mad, but then he laughed. “Exactly,” Potter smiled.

They walked until they were away from the living units, out in the middle of seemingly nowhere. The helipad was close, so they sat down on it to get out of the cold, wet grass. When Potter clicked off his flashlight, Draco followed suit. The stars were bright, but Potter’s eyes were brighter.

Draco lay back and looked up at the sky. “Are you familiar with the constellations, Potter?” he asked.

“You actually expected me to pay attention in Astronomy?” Potter joked.

He tugged Potter down too, so they were both on their backs staring up at the stars, encapsulated by the surrounding darkness of the night. Amazingly, Potter actually was interested in the constellations, or, at least he was when Draco pointed them out.

After he finished pointing out Sirius, Potter pulled him on his side and kissed him deeply, softly caressing Draco’s face. Draco let himself kiss back, because as unsure as he was about Potter’s motivations, he was convinced that they were heartfelt.

It was a minute before Potter pulled away. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he told Draco.

“Really?” Draco whispered. In his wildest dreams, he wouldn’t have expected Potter to return his affections. He’d tried to bury them after the trial, convinced Potter would want nothing to do with someone like him.

“Yes, really,” said Potter. “I’ve hoped to see you again after all these years. Congrats on your Potions Mastery, by the way.”

“Thanks,” said Draco, surprised that Potter knew so much about his life. Though Potter always did have a bit of a stalkerish tendency…

“Draco,” Potter said softly. “When we were at school, back in sixth year, did you feel something for me?”

That was bold. But Draco supposed he expected nothing less from such a Gryffindor. “I did,” he said, feeling his cheeks turn red.

“And do you still feel something now?”

“I do,” Draco admitted.

Potter kissed him again, a little more passionately this time. Desire like he’d never felt before took control of Draco, causing him to pull Potter on top of him.

Unsurprisingly, Potter snatched Draco’s hands and locked them above his head, breathing heavily in the interim. Eyes darkening, he roughly asked, “Are you sure about this?”

“I want you,” whispered Draco. “I’ve always wanted you, anyway, and now I finally know you feel the same way. I don’t know if I could forgive myself if I let you slip away again.”

With that, Potter gently slid his shirt up, teasing over his nipples until Draco lightly moaned. He flicked the tip with his tongue until Draco threaded his fingers through Potter’s hair and gently nudged him downwards. Potter took the hint, lapping slightly at Draco’s flat stomach, running his fingers underneath the elastic of Draco’s waistband.

“I can’t tell you how fucking hot it is to see you in my clothes, Malfoy,” Potter groaned, nuzzling over Draco’s hard crotch.

“Well,” Draco managed, despite Potter mouthing him through the thin material of his pants, “Don’t get used to it. These are by far the most acceptable clothes I’ve ever seen you wear.” Potter’s rumbling laugh somehow only turned him on more.

Finally, Potter tugged off Draco’s shoes and tossed them to the side, followed by his trousers and pants. While looking right into Draco’s eyes, Potter descended down onto Draco’s cock, taking it into his mouth – Draco appreciated that he didn’t tease – and down to the hilt before gently sucking in a way that made Draco’s eyes snap closed. The sensation was amazing, and Potter only made him feel better and better, especially as he started adding a little tongue flick on every other upstroke.

When he finally pulled off and came back for another kiss, Draco pulled away and said, “I need you. Now, Potter.”

With a wicked grin, Potter dropped back down between Draco’s legs and spread them a little bit wider. “Do you feel adventurous, Malfoy?” he asked. Draco couldn’t figure out why.

“I suppose?” he said noncommittally.

A moment later, Potter had picked Draco’s bottom off of the ground and tilted him back, exposing him to the world. With a shock of understanding, Draco realized what was coming next as Potter leaned down and gently licked his furled hole. He gasped loudly into the night as Potter chuckled from underneath him. Sure his legs were shaking now, Draco tried to relax as Potter bent back down and flicked his tongue around the edge of his rim, nudging in just the slightest little bit.

It was enough to drive Draco wild. He refrained from begging for more, barely, but couldn’t help from driving his bottom down so that Potter’s tongue would slide further in. So much for Potter not being a tease. After some more time exploring the outer parts of Draco’s hole, Potter finally broached him, slipping his tongue in along with his finger. Draco nearly shouted from the double stimulation of Potter brushing his prostate with his finger and stimulating the sensitive outer rim.

After a few more minutes of making Draco sob and beg for more, Potter pulled away, grinning. “ _Now_ are you ready?” he asked mischievously.

“I was ready before,” Draco said, trying not to grumble lest Potter tease him some more.

Nonverbally, Potter conjured lube, which was quite impressive; Draco could only do the most basic of nonverbal spells. Immediately, Potter turned his attentions to Draco’s bottom, making sure to lather on some of the substance as to smooth the way. Only once Draco was taken care of did Harry slick himself.

“Please, Harry,” Draco said, shocked by his own slip of the tongue in not using Potter’s surname; it almost felt natural to think of him that way. He resolved to only call Potter by his first name from now on.

That was apparently all the encouragement Harry needed. He positioned himself directly over Draco, leaning down to suck a love bite into his collarbone, before taking Draco’s cock with his still-slick hand and gently stroking it. As Harry rubbed exactly the right spot, Draco deeply inhaled – and felt Harry’s cock sliding into him.

He was relieved when Harry went slowly because his body wasn’t used to this anymore and needed plenty of time to adjust. Harry had really good instincts though, and he kept Draco turned on during the entire adjustment period. By the time Draco was fully filled, he was more than ready to speed things up.

“Harder,” Draco begged, gripping Harry’s back tightly. He picked up his legs and wrapped them around Harry’s waist, squeezing them closer together. Per Draco’s request, Harry thrust harder, but in a very controlled way. Draco had to admire his obvious self-restraint.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” Harry asked conversationally, just as he bumped Draco’s prostate.

Draco’s resulting cry prevented him from responding to the comment, though he suspected Harry’d planned it that way. However, legible sentences escaped his grasp as Harry repeatedly nudged his prostate and sucked love bites into Draco’s neck, stroking his cock occasionally just to completely undo him. As Draco breathed harder, very close to coming, Harry started whispering in his ear, “I always wanted you, Draco. You’re gorgeous, you know. Need you.”

It was the last part, combined with the stroking and the nudging, that sent Draco over the edge. As his eyes shut and his body tensed, Harry kept up the motions and the whispering until the clenching of his hole caused Harry to buck wildly and pull Draco more tightly to him. They came down together, motions gently slowing to a stop, Harry still in Draco but resting on top of him.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Draco silenced him with a kiss, trying to show his affection and even love for him in that one moment.

“Wow,” Harry said finally, after they’d broken apart.

“Wow, indeed,” agreed Draco, smiling. He ruffled Harry’s hair until he broke away, gently sliding out of Draco so that they were lying next to each other.

“I don’t want to go back,” Harry sighed, slipping his hand into Draco’s and staring up at the sky.

“Me either,” said Draco, nuzzling into Harry’s neck.

They froze together, still nude, in the cool summer night before agreeing to hurriedly throw clothes on. Somehow, it was even more satisfying to put Harry’s clothes back on after the man had just helped him to take them off.

“Why did you come to camp?” Draco asked. He’d been wondering ever since the very first day of training.

Harry sighed. “Partially because I wanted a new challenge. But I completely didn’t realize how tough it would be to live where you work.”

“No kidding,” agreed Draco. “Even when we have free time, there’s always someone around that I have no interest in seeing.”

Snickering, Harry took on a more serious face. “I was also informed that you’d decided to come to camp,” he admitted. “Since I vouched for you at your trial, I’ve been informed of major life decisions that you’ve made.” At Draco’s horrified face, he chuckled. “Don’t worry, it was only the really big things. Like when you finished school and stuff.”

Draco made a noise of relief and Harry kissed him on the nose. “You were definitely what made me decide to come here,” he said softly. “I wanted to get to know you, for real this time; none of the buggering around we did at school, but I didn’t know how to do that without a really good reason.”

“I felt the same way,” Draco admitted. “And I’m really glad you’re here, Harry. It hasn’t been very easy for me, to say the least.”

A wicked smile crossed Harry’s face. “I never thought it would be,” he said very seriously. “I admit, I was also excited to come here just so I could see you do things like shovel manure and get dirty.”

Draco shoved him. “Thanks a lot,” he grumbled. “Though in some ways, it has been oddly freeing.”

“Well,” said Harry, still smirking. “You have the rest of the summer to explore your outdoorsy side. Though I’ll still prefer you all pale and pointy,” he tacked on after Draco glared.

Though neither wanted the moment to end, they shared another very heartfelt kiss before switching on their flashlights and following the dirt trails back to the living unit.

As they walked, Harry said, “So, about those Martians.”

Draco stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Martians?”

“Yeah, Martians,” Harry snickered. “You know, the ones you were singing about earlier? How did it go? ‘A wibbly wobbly wibbly wu, a hula hula hu’?”

“Sod off, Potter!” howled Draco, snatching his hand away from Harry’s. “I’ll have you know that I only sang because my youngest camper specifically requested me to.”

“Of course that’s why you did it,” Harry said with a gleam in his eye. “It had nothing to do with the fact that you _love_ being the center of attention.”

Draco sulked. “Yeah, like you’ve never sang a camp song since you’ve been here, Potter. I know for a fact that your favorite’s ‘Black Socks’. Probably has something to do with your severe lack of personal hygiene.”

“Well, I haven’t taken a shower in two days,” Harry said, mock seriously. At Draco’s horrified gasp, he said, “Calm down, I was kidding.” Just as Draco let out a sigh of relief, he amended, “It’s actually been three days, not two.” Draco stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Harry like he was a piece of gum stuck to the side of his shoe.

“If you wake up really early tomorrow,” Harry whispered, “You can come shower with me and make sure I get clean.”

“You’re on,” Draco whispered back. “Provided you lead camp songs with me to amuse our groups on the way to the challenge course.”

“Deal,” said Harry firmly, leaning in to kiss Draco in place of the customary handshake.

They’d almost reached the staff cabin when Draco asked, “Harry, do you know what the bloody hell an ‘eminem’ is?”

Harry’s resulting laugh almost woke up the entire camp.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you're wondering, this WAS inspired by true events. #Summer2016 XD
> 
> If you're curious, here's a rendition of [The Martian Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Ph7Po1Y4tA). Substitute Skittles for M&Ms, or, as Draco calls them, "eminems."
> 
> Please leave me a kudos or a comment if you enjoyed this story! Thanks for reading :D


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